Cigarettes And Chocolate Milk
by Merccy
Summary: Heather gets a new assignment. PG for mild language. Chapter 3 up, making this fic COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

**Author:** Mercury

**Rating:** PG for some mild language.

**Author's Notes**: Thanks a ton to **Sara Grissom** for doing a wonderful job betaing this! 

I don't own _The Handler_ or am in any way associated with it, I'm just a fan. And I do not own the song "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" which I have borrowed as the name of my fic. It's a song owned and sung beautifully by Rufus Wainwright.

"You can't do this to me. Not now." 

As she watched Joe hand the file to Lily, Heather felt a surge of hatred.

The rookie was, in fact, just that -- an inexperienced agent, young and unused to real field work. 

As Lily headed off to study her new identity, Heather followed her boss into his office, throwing the file onto his desk as Joe sat in the chair behind it.

"Look," Heather began, "I'm an FBI agent. Not a babysitter."

Joe sighed. "I gave the drug case to Lily because it's something I know she can handle."

"And I can't?"

"No," Joe replied quickly, "you'd just be better off on this job. It's more important than the heist, and you're the only person I know who could do it."

Heather gave a disbelieving nod and picked up the file, thumbing absently through its contents. "How important is this?"

Leaning back in his chair, Joe gestured to show it was pretty big. "The kid's dad is one of us. Got his cover blown a couple of weeks back, and we need someone to keep an eye on his kid so we can stay alive."

She looked up, alert. "What do you mean by 'we'?"

"I mean if these guys get to his daughter and demand a ransom, he'll give them everything. Names, places, the whole package." Joe swung his feet down from the desk where they had been resting and faced Heather. "That's your name and everyone else's here."

"Why not just send child protection services? Something like that?"

"Because they don't train their agents to be good in the field. These guys are the real deal. You mess up with them, you don't get any second chances." His eyes were locked on hers, unnervingly piercing.

Heather briskly shut the file and headed towards the door, pausing briefly as she exited to lean back and call, "Joe?" She paused before continuing: "I don't mess up."

* * *

"Are you the person watching me?"

Heather watched as the swing slowly moved up and down, back and forth with a horrible grating sound of metal against rusting metal. 

She ignored the sound and turned to the frail girl sitting on the worn rubber seat of the swing. "Yeah, I am. My name's Amy."

The girl on the swing paused and tucked a piece of wiry black hair behind her ear. "That's a pretty name."

"Thank you," said Heather, uncomfortable in this unfamiliar territory. She was an FBI agent. She was supposed to be going undercover to throw these drug kingpins in jail, not act as a nanny for a kid whose father was hiding from them somewhere in the Northeast US.

They stood in silence for a few minutes more, Heather taking in her surroundings. 

It wasn't a very nice neighborhood, the girl having been living in a shabby apartment in these parts for the time being until her father came back. Trash and litter lined the streets, clusters of empty soda cups and hamburger wrappers accumulating by the sewers. A mangled wire fence surrounded the playground where they were enclosed in.

"My name's boring." The silence was broken by the child, whose name Heather had forgotten.

"It's fine." Heather replied, going with a neutral comment.

"Libby's so plain." Libby said, having slowed the swing to almost a complete halt, pushing herself back and forth using her feet against the soft mud of the ground. "There's a girl in my class named Shelley," she continued, quite content to have an audience to ramble to. "That's a nice name."

Heather, once again silent, made a snide mental note to thank Joe for the incredibly exciting assignment when he called later that night.

* * *

Marcy sighed. 

She was sick to death of the endless flirting that had been going on between Joe and Lily recently, tired of their little nudges and winks when they thought no one else was watching. Damn, they were obvious.

Joe was handing out folders with their assignments when Darnell came in and sank into a chair, swinging his legs over the chair's arms. "What've you got for us, Joe?" He asked, craning his neck slightly to view Lily out of the corner of his eye.

They were each handed their folders, and flipped through them quietly. 

"Lily and I are now fellow doctors for this drug bust case." Joe announced somewhat proudly.

Darnell raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes on his file. "A couple?"

"No, strictly a business relationship," replied Joe, clearly glad to be working alongside Lily.

Heather rolled her eyes as she walked in and saw Lily and Joe's hands vaguely grasp at each other's. Taking her seat, she noted Darnell's sly wink at Lily and struggled to suppress a grin. 

Many times had she and Marcy poked fun at Lily and Joe's blatantly obvious affection for each other, yet she had to admire Darnell for his subtle flirting.

As the other agents filed out of the room, Heather moved further into it, walking to face Joe from in front of his desk. 

Upon seeing her, Joe sighed and sat down, motioning for Heather to do the same.

Heather remained standing. "I can't do this, Joe. I refuse to be a last-minute babysitter while everyone else gets to go out and catch the guys who need to be caught."

"I don't have time for this, Heather." Joe said, reaching for the phone and lifting it from its cradle. "I picked you for this job because it's important and you're the only one I consider qualified to handle it."

"Because you couldn't stand to let Lily out of your sight, could you?" Her voice dripping with sarcasm, she left just as Joe turned his glare on her.

* * *

"Hey," she said, walking into the apartment and lightly kissing him on the cheek. "Thanks for doing this, dad."

"No problem," he responded. "She fell asleep about a half hour ago. Sweet kid."

Heather walked to the kitchen in the small apartment, taking a glass from one of the cupboards and filling it with water. 

"You sure you don't need anything stronger than that?" Mark asked lightheartedly. "I can tell you're pretty bummed about missing out on something bigger."

Smiling, she declined the offer for another beverage. "It's my job. I just do what I'm supposed to and I get paid. End of story."

Her father faced her from across the kitchen table. "Come on, Heather. Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted to do was catch the bad guys. You can't tell me you're disappointed by being assigned to something like this."

She sighed and placed her glass on the counter behind her. "I am. But it's my job, and arguing with my boss isn't going to get me reassigned." Heather headed to the bedroom where Libby was sleeping and scooped her up, kissing Mark on the cheek again on her way out. "Thanks."

* * *

Marcy thought she would go insane if she stayed in that office one minute longer. 

Between the sneaky smiles and the winks . . . it was something she just couldn't deal with anymore.

She was preparing to leave for an early lunch break when the radio set on her desk crackled to life.

"This is Heather, requesting immediate backup - "

Marcy quickly picked up the radio and responded. "Copy that, where's your position Heather?"

"I'm en route to the decoy apartment, on Thrates street, g--"

The radio stopped abruptly. Setting it down, Marcy threw open the door to Joe's office, where he and Lily were looking through their folders together, discussing the case.

"Hey!" She called. "Cut the flirting. Heather's in trouble."


	2. Chapter 2

Once again, thanks to **Sara Grissom **for betaing.

This guy had been following Heather for twenty minutes now, ever since she had left the apartment. 

Libby was still sleeping in the backseat, and Heather could hardly keep her eyes off the rearview mirror.

She turned off the road and made her way down the highway. She needed somewhere to go--somewhere crowded, where she could get a new car and continue on to the apartment. 

Somewhere that maybe she could grab something for the kid to eat . . .

The mall!

Heather grabbed the radio set in her car. "This is Heather, requesting immediate backup."

"Copy that, what's your position Heather?" Marcy replied, and Heather was relieved to hear a familiar voice.

"I'm en route to the decoy apartment, on Thrates street, going south towards the Westbrook mall. I need a -- " She stopped talking when she realized the battery was dying.

Joe's voice suddenly crackled over the radio. "Heather, you're breaking up. Where're you headed?"

She nearly shouted her reply in a desperate attempt to be heard. "I'm heading to the Westbrook mall." 

She paused, waiting for a response before repeating, "The Westbrook mall. I need a new car waiting for me outside."

"I - manage." Heather could only make out those two words before the radio set went dead. 

Swearing loudly, she threw down the radio down on the passenger seat, later realizing that that action was probably not the smartest in the situation she was in.

She pulled into the mall parking lot, surrounded by the crowd of cars and shook Libby awake gently. "Come on, kiddo." She said, watching the girl's eyes open slowly. "You like the mall?"

Libby nodded in return and Heather stepped out of the car, quickly helping Libby exit. 

They walked quickly into the mall, thankfully not being followed. Surrounded by the masses of people on either side of them, she made a beeline for the exit on the other side of the mall. There had better be a car waiting for them – 

Then he was there, the man that had been following him. He was dressed in black from head to toe, his gloved hands resting on his hips. 

Heather darted into the nearest store and pulled Libby along with her, waiting until the man disappeared from their sight.

"Is something wrong?" The girl asked inquisitively and innocently.

Heather sighed. "Sort of, honey. We're just . . . " _Just what? She asked herself. Just running through a mall from evil drug dealers out to kidnap you._ She remained silent, at a loss for anything to say.

They entered the hallway again and made their way to the exit. 

Miraculously, there was a car waiting out front--a car with Joe in the driver's seat behind the steering wheel. 

Libby and Heather ran to the car and jumped in, slamming the door behind them as Joe peeled out of the parking lot.

"How'd they get your location?" He asked as they wove through the lanes of the highway.

"I don't know." Heather answered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Libby's ear. "There must have been someone who told them about me."

"A mole?" Joe answered, shocked. "There's no one who would do that." He cast aside all thoughts of suspecting his fellow agents, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I don't know." Heather replied. "We just need to get to the apartment."

"Who's that, Amy?" Libby asked as Joe focused on the road again.

"A friend of mine." She replied simply.

* * *

They arrived at the new apartment a few minutes later. "I'll have someone drop by the old one later and pick up your things." Joe told her, his hands rested on the steering wheel of the old red car.

"Thanks." Heather said, pulling Libby along up the stairs of the building. "Come on. You want something to drink?"

"Sure," the girl answered, wide awake after her nap.

They reached the apartment quietly, and Heather was glad to find it already containing some food. It wasn't surprising, actually, since she had used this as a backup a few months ago and Darnell had used it just days ago.

Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out a carton of chocolate milk and poured a glass for the girl. 

Heather pulled out a packet of cigarettes from behind the toaster oven, where she had hidden them when she lived here. That was when she had been trying to quit and eventually did, with Joe's moral support and a ridiculous amount of patches.

For some reason this situation unnerved her. She had had to resort to a backup plan, and from here, things could only get worse. 

Heather plucked a cigarette from the container and lit it. 

The little girl and the FBI agent stood opposite each other in silence, one sipping her chocolate milk, the other smoking her cigarette, deep in thought.

Then the peace was broken by a sudden knock at the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **I wanted to finish it so it wouldn't be sitting in the bottom of my profile forever. Sorry if it's a bit abrupt, but it was written and posted all in one night so I could get it off my mind. Thanks for all of your encouragement and especially **Sara Grissom** for her excellent betaing.

Edited and replaced because I changed the dad's name -- whoops. Thanks for catching that, **SG**.

* * *

She took cautious steps to the door, opening it slowly.

"Dad?"

Her father looked at the smoldering cigarette in her hand. "I thought you gave that up, Heather."

She quickly stamped it out on the wall of the apartment, next to the doorjamb. "I did. Just . . . " Trailing off, she dropped the cigarette to the floor and began again. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, nothing much." Mark made his way into the apartment as she shut the door behind him. "Nice place."

"Did you drop by to marvel at the décor?" Heather asked, her voice laden with sarcasm. "Or to just delay me in my job or what?"

Mark stopped while he was pacing around the empty living room. "What job?" He asked. "You're just going to hide here with the kid until Joe says so?"

She stared at him, confused.

"When I worked for Joe -- as long ago as that seems -- we caught these guys. The guys who are looking for that kid. I went undercover as a male model." He grinned, recalling the memory. "Thing is, now they're free. And they have money."

"Spit it out." She demanded. "Where are you going with this, dad?"

He sighed. "We could hand her over. They've offered me a lot, and -- "

"You?" Heather cried out in disbelief. "You gave me away to them?"

"Heather," he protested, "it could be like it was before. We could get a nice house back in New York. It could be like it was before mom went."

She moved further away from the kitchen, trying to distance her father from Libby. "It was miserable between us after mom went, you know that. And I'm not prepared to put a kid in harm's way, let alone my friends."

He shrugged. "You're not going to cooperate?" Trying to push past her, he was surprised to see her arm reach across and stop him. "They're waiting downstairs. They're not going to let you get away with this."

She stepped back and pulled out her gun, aiming it at him with a steady hand. "Leave."

Smirking, he asked, "You're not going to shoot me, are you? Your own father?"

"Just leave and I won't have to deal with that, OK?"

He tried to push past her again and she pulled the trigger, meaning for it to miss him. But the bullet meant to scare him ended up in his chest, and as he fell back she let out a moan. Mark said nothing as he died, just gave her a final look. It's meaning she couldn't interpret -- was it guilt, or desperation, or apology?

Her phone rang just then. "Heather." She said, grateful her voice was not too shaky.

"It's me." Came Joe's reassuring voice. "We can see them downstairs. We're going to get you out of there, so be patient. Let us just clear them out first, although, uh, that may be a few hours."

"OK, thanks." She said, hanging up and closing the door. After she turned the padlocks and pushed in the last lock, she headed back to the kitchen.

"What was that?" Libby asked, obviously puzzled by who the stranger was at the door and what the gunshot was. Her fingers traced the rings the glass made on the table, and the now-empty glass sat before her waiting to be refilled.

"Nothing." Heather said, sitting down across from her. "Is it OK with you if we wait here for a little while?"

The girl shrugged. "Good." Said Heather with a smile. "But don't worry, we'll be out of here soon." And together they waited.


End file.
